I am not a blue blood.

My family is in town. Did I tell you that? Yep, Dad and little bro Jimmy and little sis Sandy are here hanging out for a week or so.

I come from a family of storytellers. We love to hear stories and don’t mind sharing a few of our own. The other night we were sitting around my sister’s kitchen table playing cards and taking turns sharing a memory or two.

That was all well and good until my dad pulls out this story: once upon a time my grandfather was out on the porch drinking beer as he was wont to do. He tossed his beer can out in the backyard and somehow it got caught high in a tree. The rest of the family sat around the rest of the evening trying to shoot the beer can out of the tree with bottle rockets.

As Dad was relating this story, I came to an ugly realization: we are total rednecks. Oh man, you can’t get more redneck than the whole family shooting explosives into a tree to dislodge a beer can.

Hey, I love my family. All I’m saying is my husband better be one classy guy to counteract all the hick genes I’ll be pouring into our kids.